Forgotten Foe
by Wilusa
Summary: Based on the 1991 DS miniseries. A continuation of the story, which includes my explanation of the background of Victoria Winters.


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**DISCLAIMER:_ Dark Shadows_ and its familiar characters are the property of Dan Curtis Productions. No copyright infringement is intended, no profit being made.  
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**_Part 1_**  
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I begged Barnabas not to do it, that night in the cave. We had come so far...he was almost in the clear. He was well enough to return home, lead a normal life indoors, endure direct sunlight for about four hours a day. Vicki believed my cover story. I had used hypnosis to erase Carolyn's memory of the vampire attacks. And Angelique had apparently accepted defeat. Certainly, she was no longer possessing Maggie.  
  
I thought Barnabas was a fool to risk everything for the sake of resolving a few small...inconsistencies. Now I wonder if it was Angelique who prodded him to ask one question too many, and dash all our hopes for happiness...  
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On the night Vicki returned from 1790, I never would have believed my damage control would succeed so well. Vicki pointed a trembling finger at Barnabas and choked: "He's a vampire!" Over and over, her voice rising till it turned into a scream.  
  
I saw the initial horror in Barnabas's eyes give way to confusion and pain. "Victoria, how--how _could _you?" he murmured. Later, I would learn a second set of eighteenth-century memories had flooded into his mind, coexisting with the first. And at that moment, he believed the confession he forced from Rev. Trask had saved Vicki's life. After a last, despairing look at her, he turned and fled into the night.  
  
I took Vicki in my arms and tried to soothe her. "No, Vicki, no! That can't be! You're confused, somehow. Think how many times you've seen Barnabas in broad daylight. Rest now, rest..."  
  
To my relief, Elizabeth and Roger joined in, saying much the same thing. They too had seen him by day, many times, during my first attempt at a cure. Maggie remained silent. But when I looked into her troubled eyes, I knew they were Maggie's eyes, not Angelique's.  
  
"I tell you, he's a vampire! He's over two hundred years old..." Not giving up on it. But her voice had trailed off; she was muttering now. Clinging to me. A hopeful development, and surprising, since we had never been close.  
  
Roger tried to assert himself, made some forceful statement in defense of Barnabas. Vicki looked at him as if she were seeing him for the first time. And then--everyone saw it--she cringed away from _him_, terrified. Looked dubiously at Elizabeth, and huddled close against me, whimpering. Good, good! If she was paranoid about almost everyone, her accusation against Barnabas was less likely to be believed. The only problem was, it could so easily be proven...  
  
Suddenly, Vicki looked up at me. "Where is...Joe? Joe Haskell? I want Joe. I have to talk to him. Please!"  
  
"Joe?" _Oh God, no_. _Why?_ They had never been more than casual acquaintances. Why, of all people, did she want to see Joe?  
  
"I'll call him." Roger looked thankful for an excuse to leave the room.  
  
"It's the middle of the night, Roger," I pointed out.  
  
"He won't mind. Not in a situation like this." Roger ducked out.  
  
_No_, I thought grimly. _Joe wouldn't mind. Not if he were still alive.  
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_In the days that followed, I listened to Vicki's story again and again. Learnedthat she trusted me because I was a lookalike for Natalie DuPres, who had been the loving aunt of her supposed previous incarnation, Josette, and a friend to Vicki herself. Since a family relationship was out of the question, Vicki assumed I was the reincarnation of Natalie--and I tended to agree. She feared Roger because she believed, for similar reasons, that he was the reincarnation of the evil Rev. Trask. Elizabeth's lookalike ancestor and possible previous incarnation, Naomi, had once publicly accused her of witchcraft.  
  
As for Joe Haskell...Joe was a double for a man named Peter Bradford, with whom Vicki had fallen in love. Bradford had vowed to find her in the future.  
  
When I was sure how much Vicki knew, I readily agreed that the evidence proved the original Barnabas had been, and probably still was, a vampire. But I insisted the Barnabas she had met in 1990 was a different man. I hammered again and again at the key point: _she had seen him, often, during the day._  
  
How could he exist, if the man he claimed was his ancestor had never gone to England and founded a family there? I suggested Barnabas had heard an inaccurate version of his family history. In reality, his eighteenth-century ancestor--Barnabas, Jeremiah, or their father Joshua--had simply paid off a pregnant mistress to go to England. Once there, she had defiantly given her son the Collins name.  
  
And what of the vampire attacks in Collinsport in 1990? Since Vicki knew nothing of the chained coffin, I suggested "Barnabas I" had escaped destruction by leaving the area, taking his coffin with him. He had been moving from place to place for two hundred years. And in 1990, he had returned for a grisly reason. He had learned of the existence of "Barnabas II," and decided to take advantage of the family resemblance. He knew that if any of his victims described their attacker, suspicion would fall on the innocent "Barnabas II." But after three months, with the authorities aware they were dealing with a real vampire, he had prudently moved on.  
  
Why had our Barnabas behaved so strangely in his romance with Vicki? Here I pretended to reveal, with great reluctance, a medical confidence. The "truth" was that Barnabas had a severe heart condition, and knew sexual arousal might kill him.  
  
Vicki believed it all.  
  
Barnabas had disappeared after he fled Collinwood that night, though Willie and I soon learned where he was. Vicki, Elizabeth and Roger readily accepted that he had needed to go away for a while, after Vicki's terrible accusation, to deal with his grief and pain. Vicki was devastated.  
  
The disappearance of Joe Haskell was discovered sooner than Barnabas and I had hoped. But Sheriff Patterson never found the body. Carolyn told him nothing, and by the time he saw her, the only marks on her neck were bruises that could have resulted from ordinary lovemaking. I claimed Joe had been obsessed with vampires since Daphne's death, and imagined Barnabas was a vampire. In the end, I suggested, Joe had fled Collinsport to escape his own private demons. Vicki--newly returned from vacation, we told the sheriff--backed up my story that Barnabas had left after a lovers' quarrel with her.  
  
In private, Vicki was sick with worry over both men. But she believed my lies about Joe--the more readily, because she was sure he was the reincarnation of Peter Bradford, who had known the original Barnabas to be a vampire. After a half-hearted attempt to locate him by calling friends, she reluctantly accepted that if he was indeed Peter, _he_ would find _her_ when the time was right.  
  
Sheriff Patterson was harder to deceive. He obtained a warrant, and searched every nook and cranny of the Old House--and Collinwood--for either Barnabas himself, or a concealed coffin. He searched the outbuildings, including Willie's old apartment over the stable. To my horror, he even found the secret room in the mausoleum. But of course, it was empty.  
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Barnabas's discovery of the cave was a godsend. Though I still shudder at the memory of how he found it. At daybreak on the morning after Vicki's return, he was on Widows' Hill, fully intending to let the sunlight destroy him. But when his agony became unbearable, he blacked out, and instinct took over. He transformed into a bat, and saved himself by flying into a tiny crevice in the cliff wall.  
  
When he regained consciousness at sundown, he found himself in a network of bat-infested caves, their inner recesses pitch dark, honeycombing the apparently solid cliff. He simply lay there for a time, his mood as black as his surroundings. But before the night was over, he contacted Willie and me.  
  
Barnabas could have left the cave as he entered, in bat form. By chance, however, he had wandered down to a lower level and found a human-sized opening in the cliff wall, visible only at ebb tide. When he reported that, I knew we had found a way to elude the sheriff. Utilizing the wall opening, Willie and I helped Barnabas move his coffin and an assortment of supplies into the cave, and provided him a round-the-clock hideout. I seem to recall that all of us, even Barnabas--perhaps especially Barnabas--found it loathsome at first. But we had no choice.  
  
All that remained was for me to persuade him to let me resume treating him. Weeks before, he had been furious over my refusal to go to his assistance when a massive dose of my serum--which he had demanded--threatened to destroy him. He had been forced to save himself by reverting to vampirism. Actually, I had intended to help, by injecting him with earlier specimens of his own blood. But I had foolishly assumed Willie was exaggerating the danger. So I had tried to make Barnabas come to me in person and beg. Now I swallowed my pride. Explained. And I was the one who begged, for his forgiveness.  
  
He slumped wearily on one of the cave's natural stone benches. "It's all right, Julia. I realized what had happened, when it was too late. I accept your apology, but it's not necessary. Not all the mistakes were on your side. As I recall, I had been somewhat...insensitive."  
  
"That's all right too." I felt a surge of warmth toward him. "We can resume the treatments immediately--"  
  
"No."  
  
"No? Why not?" I tried, with scant success, to read his expression. The flickering candlelight sent shadows flitting across his face. "Barnabas, I'm going to cover for you! With Vicki, and with the sheriff. I've already begun with Vicki. Now that you have a safe hideout for a while, I'm sure we can get you out of this. Unless...unless you've decided you _want_ to remain a vampire..."  
  
"_Want_ to?" His drooping head shot up. "God, Julia, every moment of this sickens me! I _never_ wanted it. But now...I don't think your treatments will work again. Not after so many shocks to my system. That's why I was trying to destroy myself.  
  
"It wasn't a sudden thing. I had been planning it for weeks, ever since that horrible seance. I intended to ask Willie to drive a stake through my heart. But I can't do that now, after seeing what Angelique did to Joe. I was taking just enough blood from Carolyn to keep me going till I found out, one way or the other, what had happened to Victoria."  
  
"Barnabas. Listen to me." I took a deep breath. "There's no reason to believe the treatments won't work. You're just depressed--with good reason, after all that's happened.  
  
"But I can still cure you! And in any case, you don't have a choice. You said yourself you can't ask anyone to destroy you. Neither Willie nor I would agree to do it, anyway, when we believe there's an alternative. If you try again to do it yourself, by waiting for sunlight, the same thing will happen as happened last time. And you can't hide here forever."  
  
"I know." He shuddered. "My God, the smell! I don't know how long I can take it. I don't know what will happen to me, but something will."  
  
"You have to hang on," I said forcefully. "Let me begin the treatments! You have nothing to lose. I can't predict how long it will take. But either Willie or I will be here with you, as often as we safely can."  
  
"All right." He sounded more resigned than hopeful.  
  
But it was a start.  
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Privately, I was as anxious as Barnabas. I had often found a patient's gut feeling about his own medical condition to be correct.  
  
Prepared for the worst, I was elated when his blood responded to treatment more quickly than it had the first time. It was as though it was now predisposed to change in the direction of normality, and needed only a nudge. I still estimated that a full cure, at a safe pace, would require close to a year. But I told him he could look forward to going home in about six weeks. He would be in no danger unless the sheriff tested him by forcing him to endure more than four or five hours of direct sunlight. And unless Joe's body was found, or someone talked, Patterson would have no evidence to justify that. Barnabas's mood brightened visibly.  
  
I was driving myself to the point of exhaustion. Spending hours with Vicki every day, then slipping out to be with Barnabas at night. The sheriff had kept Willie and me under surveillance while he and his deputies searched the estate, by day, for an immobile vampire in a coffin. But he could not possibly guard every door and window of two sprawling mansions after dark.  
  
Barnabas hung on my every word about Vicki. He blanched when I admitted telling her he had a severe heart condition.  
  
I hastened to reassure him. "I'm sorry, Barnabas. I didn't do that to hurt you. It was the only lie I could think of to explain your behavior.  
  
"But you can get out of it! I'm not trying to keep you from her." I felt a stinging in my eyes that had nothing to do with the smoky candles lighting the cave. "You can say you obtained more medical opinions while you were away, found a new medication. I'll back you up."  
  
I swallowed hard and made myself go on. "If you like, you can blame it all on me. Say I was treating you, and I deceived you into thinking the problem was worse than it was. Because I was jealous. Wanted you for myself."  
  
He said, very softly, "Thank you, Julia."  
  
_God_, I thought, _how can I endure handing him over to that shallow girl? A girl who turned against him the moment she learned what he was. Or was it the moment her eyes met Peter Bradford's? Barnabas's best friend. Damn her!_ The love Vicki had shared with Bradford was one thing I had kept from him, to spare him. Perhaps he would never have to find out.  
  
With an effort, I forced myself to be fair. Vicki had felt Barnabas was rejecting her before her journey to the past. And even so, by her account, she had not turned to Bradford until almost the end. After she had learned Barnabas was a vampire--realized the man she had loved in the future was the same person--_and_ wrongly assumed he had existed as a vampire, gorging himself on others' blood, for two hundred years.  
  
That thought made even my flesh crawl.  
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Barnabas had begun experiencing normal sleep. "Or at least, I suppose you could call it normal," he grumbled. "Normal sleep includes bad dreams, doesn't it?"  
  
"Yes. After all you've been through, I'm not surprised you're having bad dreams." I was curious. "Do you want to tell me about them?"  
  
He hesitated, then abruptly nodded. "It's just one recurring dream. When I wake, I remember the image of a window..."  
  
"And...?"  
  
"That's all."  
  
"That's _all?_ A _window?_ And you consider it a nightmare?"  
  
He frowned. "Well, there's a window, and a curtain... I know there's more to the dream, but I can't remember it. There's a feeling of wrongness. That's what's so troubling."  
  
I was intrigued. "Are you inside the window, or outside?"  
  
"I'm...not sure."  
  
"Think about it. You seemed sure there was a curtain. Does that suggest you're inside? Better able to see the curtain than if you were outside?"  
  
He cocked his head, straining to remember. "Y-yes. Yes, that makes sense. You're right. I'm inside the window."  
  
"Have you had the dream before? Before you became a vampire? Or last winter, when I first tried to cure you?"  
  
"Never before I became a vampire. Last winter, two or three times. Not like now!" His voice rose, creating a tinny echo in the caverns. "Now, every time I fall asleep, I wake with the image of that window in my mind! And a feeling of wrongness..."  
  
Alarmed, I tried to soothe him. "Barnabas, I'm sure it's symbolic. The window represents your desire to escape from a prison in which you feel trapped, the reality of being a vampire. And now you are about to escape, so everything will be all right."  
  
"No. That's not it. I don't have an impression of wanting to get outside." I sensed he was holding something back, and he finally blurted it out. "Julia, I feel that..._hell_ is on the other side of the window."  
  
_"Hell?"_  
  
"Yes. Hell is outside. But somehow, hell is inside, too! So I can't get away..."  
  
"Barnabas, stop it!" His morbid train of thought frightened me. "You can't go on like this. You said there was more to the dream. Let me hypnotize you and help you remember it all, so you can deal with it."  
  
_"No!"_ Trembling, he struggled to regain his composure. "Julia, it's not that I don't trust you. I know you wouldn't deliberately..._tamper_.  
  
"But after what Angelique did to me... I know she didn't use hypnosis. But she _did things to me!_ And made _me_ do things that I, Barnabas Collins, did not want to do. That terrifies me.  
  
"That's why I can't let anyone touch my mind. Not my _mind!_ I have to hang onto every bit of independence I have left. That's why I can't let anyone close to me."  
  
I cursed myself for not having realized how fragile his sense of self must be. And yet a nasty impulse made me say, "You'd let Vicki close to you, wouldn't you?" At his wounded look, I snapped, "Sorry. _Victoria_."  
  
"It's not the name." His eyes pleaded with me. "Try to understand, Julia. She _is_ Josette! _The one love of my life_. Can't you understand that?"  
  
Unfortunately, I could.  
  
"I'm sorry, Barnabas," I said contritely. "Don't fret about the dream. I'm sure it's symbolic. After all that's happened, you're afraid to let yourself believe everything will be all right.  
  
"But it will, I promise it will! And you _will_ have Vicki. She knows she's the reincarnation of Josette. I don't think I've told you this. She discussed it with Josette, and Josette believed it too.  
  
"I know it hurt when Vicki denounced you as a vampire instead of covering for you. But you must understand, she has no first-person memories of her life as Josette. She knows the original Barnabas was himself a victim, and that he tried to save her life. But she doesn't know what you've told me, that you only took Josette's blood after she freely offered herself to you. Vicki assumes you _attacked_ Josette, and there's no safe way to tell her otherwise."  
  
"I understand. I'll have to accept being a different person." He sighed. "But, Julia, there's something I _don't_ understand. Why is Victoria so willing to confide in you? I'm glad she is. But I didn't think you and she were close."  
  
I relaxed. "Oh, I'm sorry! I thought I had explained. It's because I look so much like Natalie DuPres. Vicki thinks I'm the reincarnation of Countess DuPres  
--I do too, don't you?--and she apparently felt close to her."  
  
Barnabas stared at me, perplexed. "I...I don't know what to think."  
  
"What's wrong? Don't your memories agree with hers? Do you remember Natalie having treated her badly?"  
  
"N-no. It's not that..."  
  
"What, then?"  
  
"Julia..._you look nothing at all like Natalie DuPres!_"  
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**_Part 2_**  
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Barnabas and I were reviewing our problem. Getting nowhere.  
  
"You do not look like Natalie DuPres," he insisted. "She was much shorter, and had ash-blond hair."  
  
"The other resemblances Vicki mentioned..."  
  
He sighed. "Some yes, some no. Elizabeth certainly does look like my mother. Carolyn resembles Millicent, and David, my brother Daniel. Willie resembles Ben Loomis.  
  
"But these others..." He glanced down at the list of names I had prepared. No longer straining to read it, I noticed, despite the inadequate light in the cave. He had already memorized the list. "I see no resemblance between Roger and Rev. Trask. Mrs. Johnson and my aunt Abigail. Professor Woodard and my father. Sheriff Patterson and Andre DuPres. Joe Haskell and Peter Bradford."  
  
"Did everyone in 1790 agree that Vicki resembles Josette?"  
  
"Yes, of course. You can see she resembles the eighteenth-century portrait. There's nothing subjective about that. Everyone who looks at the portrait sees it. And everyone in 1790 saw the resemblance between the two living women."  
  
"All right." I tried to clear my head. "Perhaps, with so many real lookalikes, Vicki's mind began playing tricks on her. Exaggerating slight resemblances."  
  
"Julia! Do you really think--" He choked, and turned abruptly away. When he forced himself to go on, his voice was oddly stifled. "Do you think I could have done what I did to Professor Woodard if he reminded me even slightly of my _father?_"  
  
His words hit me like a physical blow. I felt the blood drain from my face. "I never thought of that," I admitted. "No, of course not. I'm sorry you had to point it out.  
  
"There was no resemblance, then. In that case, or most of the others. It was all Vicki's imagination. Thrust into another time, she was desperate to find something familiar to cling to, and she began fantasizing."  
  
Barnabas shook his head. "I don't think it's that simple. You could say I was thrust into another time, too, and I didn't begin seeing imaginary resemblances! Besides, some of these reincarnations ring true."  
  
"How so?"  
  
"Take Roger's cynicism. That could be an unconscious carryover from the personality of Rev. Trask, a totally insincere man.  
  
"And you...you became a friend to me, as Natalie DuPres was. You have her open mind, her willingness to consider possibilities many people would reject out of hand.  
  
"Above all, this business of the sheriff being the reincarnation of her brother... Have you never wondered why you instinctively sided with Sheriff Patterson against Michael Woodard, an old friend? Especially in light of the fact that you consider vampirism a treatable illness?"  
  
I sucked in a breath. "I...yes, I have wondered about that. What you're implying makes sense. But what about Michael Woodard and your father? Isn't that impossible?"  
  
"No." He avoided my eyes, staring into the candle flame. "I could not have harmed him if I had _seen a resemblance_. But if there was nothing visible, nothing conscious...  
  
"I've told you that I asked my father to drive a stake through my heart. That he promised to do it, and lost his nerve. Chained me in the coffin instead.  
  
"Have you ever thought about what I went through, when I woke at sundown and discovered what he had done to me?"  
  
"I've thought about it," I said softly. "Wondered. Not dared to ask. I wasn't sure you ever did wake, till Willie opened the coffin."  
  
"Oh yes, I did." His mouth twisted in an involuntary grimace. "With the craving for blood still there. And all the terror anyone would feel at finding himself trapped in a coffin, in icy cold and utter darkness, barely able to move a muscle... Even though I knew I did not need to breathe air, I felt as if I were suffocating. And instead of being mercifully over in a few minutes, the agony went on and on, and I knew it would continue for all eternity. I think I must have experienced all the torments of the damned."  
  
"Oh God, Barnabas--" I reached for one of his quivering hands.  
  
"I'm all right!" He shook me off, burying the offending hands in his pockets. "It may not have lasted long. Perhaps only a month or so. But it seemed like a century.  
  
"Then I learned the knack of putting myself into a trance. Similar to what a vampire does during the day, but round the clock. I didn't suffer after that. I was able to dream, and somehow control my dreams and make them what I wanted. I relived all my happiest hours with Josette, and went on to live, in fantasy, all the years we should have had together.  
  
"But I always knew it was a fantasy. A fantasy limited by my own imagination. A life without surprises, without marvels, without a sense of wonder at the achievements of other minds... I felt horribly cheated at being denied real death, and the possibility of real rebirth.  
  
"But in time, I found a kind of peace. After two hundred years, I was quite angry when Willie disturbed me!  
  
"I...did not mean to...get into all that. Merely to explain...those first hellish weeks... Julia, I knew my father had not meant to torture me. Knew he had acted out of misguided love. But I...could not control my rage. And I cursed him. _I cursed him!_ I regretted it later, but I could not undo my curse.  
  
"What happened was very...appropriate, was it not? His subconscious guilt over not having destroyed a vampire when he could have--_should_ have--turned him into an unrelenting vampire hunter. And my curse fell on him and me, by making me blindly destroy...someone I loved...and survive to realize it."  
  
He fell silent. From somewhere above us came a sudden, angry chittering of unseen bats. Their wings rustled uneasily in the darkness.  
  
Somehow, I found my voice. "I don't think it was appropriate. It was too harsh a punishment, for both of you. But you're probably right in thinking that's what happened. I'm so sorry, Barnabas."  
  
We sat side by side for a long time. Barnabas brooding over his father's guilt and his own, while I offered silent companionship and moral support. And at some point it occurred to me that he had, unwittingly, let me close to him in a way _she_ could never be. If that was all I would ever have, so be it.  
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Barnabas had been pacing for an hour. He looked terrible. Haggard from lack of sleep. Because of this resemblance problem, I wondered, or that infernal nightmare?  
  
I suspected we had reached the same conclusion, and began to fear he would never put it into words. But finally, he did.  
  
"I think we have to face this. All the indisputable instances of lookalikes involve blood relatives, however distant. They may or may not imply reincarnation."  
  
"May or may not?" I tended to agree with him; but not having known his eighteenth-century forebears, I wanted to hear his reasoning.  
  
He shrugged. "Of the four cases we have, only Elizabeth's seems to suggest reincarnation. Her personality is a great deal like my mother's. My cousin Millicent was a self-centered, demanding shrew. Carolyn has her faults, but thankfully, she's nothing like Millicent! Daniel, on the other hand, was a much happier, better-adjusted child than David."  
  
_As you remember him_, I thought ruefully. _I wonder what he was like after the family tragedies?_ Aloud, I said, "What about Willie? He's sure he's the reincarnation of Ben Loomis--"  
  
"Whom he had never heard of until Victoria described him," Barnabas said irritably. "Willie is simply fascinated by the idea of reincarnation. He had never heard of that until a few weeks ago, either!"  
  
"That's irrelevant, and you know it." My irritation was a match for his. "Are there any similarities, beyond physical appearance?"  
  
"None that I'm aware of." His voice was tinged with regret. "Ben Loomis was an intelligent, competent man. A war hero! A family servant, but also my _friend_. My equal in every way, really, save for the accident that I had been born to wealth and he had not.  
  
"I _miss_ him, Julia!" He was blinking back tears. "And...and...Willie looks so much like Ben... I'm afraid I sometimes lash out at him, unjustly, to punish him for not _being_ Ben."  
  
"I...I see." And I began to, for the first time.  
  
"There's something else. I'm sure you know as well as I do that Willie, in his own way, is in love with Victoria."  
  
"_Barnabas!_ You can't resent--"  
  
"No, no! I don't hold that against him. It's a completely harmless, hopeless love. I can't imagine him acting on it, and I'm sure he can't, either."  
  
"Then what--"  
  
"It's another argument against his being the reincarnation of Ben. I never saw any sign that Ben was attracted to Josette. Or to Victoria, for that matter, in the revised history."  
  
I weighed that. "As I understand it, Ben had very little opportunity to get to know either of them, Barnabas. And Angelique had put a spell on him. Wasn't he in her power, to some degree, most of the time they were at Collinwood?"  
  
"That's true..." He sounded unconvinced.  
  
"In any case," he went on, "the resemblances seen only by Victoria are different. A feature of time travel, or this particular mode of time travel. Victoria was given the power to recognize previous incarnations of people she knew. And the way this worked--the only way it _could_ work--was that she saw nonexistent physical resemblances.  
  
"But that means...in the absence of a blood relationship, it apparently is not the norm to resemble our previous incarnations. And so, I must consider the possibility..."  
  
I finished the thought for him. _"The possibility that Vicki is not the reincarnation of Josette."_ My heart was racing. Was this the answer to my prayers? Or...deep down, did I really want him to be hurt like that?  
  
"I must consider it. But how can we explain the resemblance?"  
  
"A blood relationship. Could Josette have left descendants? Not a child by you, or you would have known of it. But--please don't be offended--could she have had a child by another man, before you met?"  
  
"I don't think so," he said slowly. "I'm not sure she was a virgin when we became lovers. I never asked. But if she had a child, where was it? I think she would have trusted me to accept any child of hers, and raise it as my own."  
  
"All right. There are other possibilities. I take it she was an only child?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Even so, she may have had cousins who left descendants. Or Andre DuPres may have fathered a child out of wedlock." _Deja vu_. I was working as hard to rationalize Vicki's existence for Barnabas as I had to rationalize his existence for her. "One way or another, Vicki must be a blood relation. But that doesn't rule out reincarnation! Quite the contrary."  
  
I looked into his eyes, and saw a terrible doubt. "Julia..._I have to know!_"  
  
"There's no way you _can_ know. For God's sake, Barnabas, some things have to be accepted on faith. Do you love her, or not?"  
  
"Yes. I love her. But..."  
  
"_But_. There will always be a 'but,' won't there?"  
  
"Yes." He hung his head. But then, suddenly, it shot up again, eyes alight with a new hope. "Julia, it's not true that there's no way I can know! The solution is simple. Hypnotize her. Regress her."  
  
I winced. "I was afraid you'd suggest that. I can't do it. I asked Vicki weeks ago to let me hypnotize her. She refused, adamantly. She's terrified of hypnosis."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I didn't ask." How dense could the man be? "_Think_, Barnabas! Vicki has no doubts. She's sure she's the reincarnation of Josette. Nothing to prove, no incentive to undergo hypnosis.  
  
"And she knows what happened to Josette. What woman would want to relive those memories? The whole business with Jeremiah. Her confused feelings about you. Your dying in her arms, then returning as a vampire to attack her. And finally, her fatal plunge from Widows' Hill..."  
  
"I did not attack her!" Controlled fury in his voice. "And if she had truly changed her mind, I would not have forced her to submit to me again--let alone go through with the plan to become my vampire bride. The only reason I did not complete the process of making her a vampire that first night was that I meant to give her a chance to reconsider. She panicked and ran before I could explain that."  
  
"I know," I assured him wearily. "I believe you. I'm sorry I misspoke. But that doesn't change my point. No one, without good reason, would want to relive such traumatic experiences."  
  
He pondered that, and gave a reluctant nod. "Then you must hypnotize her without her consent."  
  
"I can't, Barnabas! It's not a question of ethics. I literally cannot hypnotize her against her will. Not when her resistance to the idea is so strong."  
  
"Carolyn--"  
  
"Was a totally different case. You used your power as a vampire--which you no longer have--to make her receptive. And I merely helped her forget things she really wanted to forget.  
  
"Wait!" I had a sudden idea. "If I could 'stumble upon' portraits of some of these eighteenth-century people--portraits with names attached--and pretend to be surprised at their not resembling whoever, I could use that as an excuse to talk Vicki into hypnosis. Surely there are portraits of your father and aunt?"  
  
He groaned in frustration. "No. When I was restoring the Old House, I looked at every portrait there and at Collinwood. There are portraits of my mother, my sister and brothers, me. But none of my father or Abigail.  
  
"It makes sense. My father lovingly preserved portraits of his wife and children, but he would never sit still long enough to pose himself. And I suspect he secretly loathed Abigail. He probably destroyed every picture of her after her death.  
  
"We can't expect to find a portrait of Trask or Peter Bradford, either. No one in the area in those days, aside from the Collins family, ever had portraits painted."  
  
I glumly contributed my bit of information. "I've done some research on Natalie DuPres. She and Andre were so heartbroken over Josette that they left Martinique and returned to France. They survived the Reign of Terror. But all their possessions, including family portraits, were destroyed then or in later political upheavals."  
  
Back to Square One. We stared at each other. I said, "There's no way, Barnabas."  
  
And he said, "There is a way. I can tell Victoria the truth."  
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**_Part 3_**  
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Vicki's eyes widened in terror. "You're saying...you really _are_ a vampire? Oh God, no! _No!_"  
  
She backed away from Barnabas, looking frantically from him to me. "Julia, you knew! You must have known all along. You lied to me. _You_, not Barnabas. How could you? No, no!"  
  
Her horror was understandable. Trapped, as she thought she was, in a vampire's drawing room. Caught between the vampire and a lying woman who had to be his ally. With the situation made all the more bizarre by brilliant sunlight streaming through the windows.  
  
I glanced at Barnabas's ashen face, and decided I had best take charge of the situation.  
  
"Vicki!" I planted myself in front of her, gripping her by the shoulders. "Barnabas isn't a vampire _now_. You mustn't think of him that way. I've been treating him--"  
  
"_Treating_ him? As if it were some sort of _illness?_" She shook me off, eyes blazing. "That's impossible. All of this is impossible!"  
  
"There's a first time for everything. Listen to me. Barnabas isn't a threat to you or anyone else. He can't hurt you."  
  
How I wished the reverse were equally true. I had begged Barnabas to wait longer. If Vicki betrayed him now, six hours' forced exposure to the sun would give Sheriff Patterson all the proof he needed.  
  
Barnabas found his voice. "Please, Victoria, let me try to explain. We have no intention of holding you against your will. If you choose to walk out that door and go straight to the sheriff, you can. And at this point, that will destroy me. I want you to know I'm putting my life in your hands."   
  
Vicki hesitated. Edged toward the door, and saw that neither of us moved. Willie appeared, visibly terrified--and just as visibly relieved when Barnabas waved him aside. He melted into the shadows of the foyer. Where, I wondered, would his ultimate loyalty lie, if he were ever forced to make a choice between Barnabas and his precious "Miss Winters"?  
  
"Please," Barnabas said. "You know it was Angelique who made me a vampire. And you know I tried to help you.  
  
"I did _not_ attack Josette! And I have not been attacking and killing people for two hundred years, as you probably think. If you ever loved me, in any lifetime, you'll give me a chance to explain."  
  
Suddenly, she looked him squarely in the eyes. "Tell me one thing. Where have you been hiding these past weeks?"  
  
I gasped. _No, Barnabas, no! Don't tell her! The only safe hiding place in the area, your only hope if she betrays you. No!_  
  
"In a network of caves within the cliffs at Widows' Hill. The entrance is only visible at ebb tide." Voice steady, eyes locked on hers. He understood exactly what he was doing.  
  
Vicki came back and sat down.  
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"I _am_ Josette!" She was pacing now, fighting back tears. Chalk-white face in stark contrast to the cheery pink of her blouse; full navy skirt swishing as she walked, incongruously normal. "You can't shake my belief in that."  
  
"I believe it too," Barnabas said gently. "But these discrepancies in our memories are troubling. It would be so simple to let Julia regress you, and settle that question, at least, once and for all."  
  
"I'm afraid. What if...no, it's foolish even to think it! _I am Josette._"  
  
I remembered Vicki was an orphan, a foundling with no heritage of her own. Her identification with Josette was more important to her than I had realized.  
  
I was sorry Barnabas was putting her through this. But glad, in retrospect, that something had driven him to tell her the truth. She had been wonderfully warm and understanding, once she heard his side of the story. For the first time, I felt...reconciled...to the idea of them as a couple.  
  
"I want you to be sure, Barnabas," she told him now. "As sure as I am. I'm just so afraid... Julia, could you skip over some parts of my past? Not force me to relive things I don't want to relive?"  
  
"Of course," I promised glibly, not at all sure I could. "It's natural that you wouldn't want to re-experience all the horrible things that happened to Josette--"  
  
"It's not that." Color rose in her cheeks. "It's not that life I'm afraid of. It's this one!"  
  
We stared at her. After a moment I thought I understood. Peter Bradford. She was afraid of blurting out too much.  
  
She read my expression. Bit her lip, then shook her head. "Julia thinks she knows what the problem is, but she doesn't."  
  
After an instant's wavering, she reached a decision. "Barnabas, I should tell you what she thinks it is. I don't want to hurt you, but I have to be honest. In 1790--at the very end, when I had guessed part of the truth about you, but only part, and I was disillusioned--Peter Bradford and I began falling in love."  
  
He took it better than I would have expected. His already pale face seemed to grow even paler; that was all. Vicki continued, gently, and gave him a full explanation.  
  
"I certainly can't blame you for falling in love with Peter." Somehow, he kept his voice steady. "He was a fine man, Victoria. A fine man."  
  
"But now I realize I had misjudged you! My feelings are hopelessly confused. If Peter were to walk through that door...assuming both of you still wanted me, I'm not sure which man I'd choose.  
  
"And that consideration makes me _want_ to undergo regression! To truly experience _Josette's_ feelings for you. I think that would help me."  
  
_"Victoria."_  
  
He had been avoiding her eyes. But now he too had obviously made a decision. A decision that terrified me. _No, Barnabas, no!_  
  
"You know how badly I want you to do this. But I have to be as honest as you've been.  
  
"We both believe Joe Haskell...is...the reincarnation of Peter Bradford."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Victoria, I'm sorry. I can't tell you how sorry. You'll never have to choose between us, not in this life. Joe is dead."  
  
_"Dead?"_ For a moment I thought she might collapse. Barnabas sprang to her side to steady her.  
  
"Angelique killed him. Joe had learned my secret... This was while you were away. I was still a vampire. He was trying to drive a stake through my heart. And Angelique killed him."  
  
I breathed a silent prayer of gratitude for his not telling her how Angelique had done it.  
  
"Angelique, here?" Vicki sounded dazed. "In 1991?"  
  
"Yes. Please don't ask for the details. It is true. Angelique killed Joe--and later, she tried to kill Phyllis Wick. That probably would have prevented your return. Julia thwarted her that time, kept Phyllis alive just long enough."  
  
She was trembling uncontrollably, but she looked at me and managed to say softly, "Thank you."  
  
He guided her to the sofa and sank down beside her. "I am sorry, Victoria. I hope you believe me."  
  
"I do. I'm glad someone stopped Joe from destroying you. But Angelique never changes! She could have used her powers to protect you without killing Joe. Just as--" She broke off.  
  
"Just as she could have used them to protect me without killing my brother Jeremiah."  
  
"Yes."  
  
She rested her head on his shoulder, and they clung together for a few moments, united in mourning.  
  
Then Vicki straightened. She pulled away from him, self-consciously smoothing her skirt. "In any case, I still want to recover my memories of Josette's life. I know they could only deepen my love for you.  
  
"But...there's something else I haven't told either of you." Her clasped hands twisted convulsively in her lap. "Here in Collinsport, I haven't told the whole truth about my past. That is, to anyone but Mrs. Stoddard."  
  
I could see Barnabas was as startled as I was. Vicki was so young, so uncomplicated. What painful secrets could she have?  
  
"You see...I'm not really a foundling raised in an orphanage. Or who knows, maybe I am! The point is, I don't know. I have amnesia."  
  
As a doctor, I was the first to recover from my astonishment. "That's...not uncommon." Not true, but the polite thing to say. "How much memory loss do you have? How much of your life?"  
  
She relaxed, encouraged by my acceptance. "My memories begin three years ago." The words flowed easily now. "In 1988. I was found wandering in a daze, in New York...  
  
"Nothing was ever learned about my background. My name is an invention. Even my age--twenty-two then, twenty-five now--is a doctor's best guess. I didn't look any older than that. And while I remembered nothing about myself, I clearly had a good general education. So he guessed I was twenty-two, old enough to have finished college.  
  
"Knowing the fundamentals, I was able to take accelerated courses and qualify as a teacher fairly quickly... I'm not ashamed. It was Mrs. Stoddard who suggested I lie about it. Roger had wanted to send David away to boarding school  
--she talked him into hiring a governess--and she was afraid he'd seize any excuse to question my competence."  
  
"About the amnesia," Barnabas prodded. "Did that doctor believe you'd been in some kind of accident?"  
  
"No." She frowned. "I hadn't, as far as he could tell. At least, there was no evidence of recent head injury.  
  
"That's why I'm frightened. The doctor thought I might have experienced some severe psychological trauma--something so horrible that I blocked it out. And if it was that bad--" She looked at me. "I don't want to remember it now!"  
  
"Of course not," I said immediately. "From a psychological point of view, it might be different if you were older. But at your age, with so much of your life still ahead of you, it's perfectly reasonable to start over."  
  
"Can you regress me without making me remember it?"  
  
I took a deep breath. "I'll try."  
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**_Part 4_**  
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Vicki smiled up at the portrait of Josette on the bedroom wall. "I'm sure this is the right place. I feel so safe, so secure here. A wonderful idea, Barnabas!"  
  
I gave a noncommittal grunt. I still had reservations about using Josette's room. I had expressed my concern that it would increase the risk of Vicki's fantasizing memories of that deeply wished-for incarnation. But Barnabas argued that we'd have to contend with that possibility anywhere, so her comfort should be paramount. We'd simply have to be rigorous in evaluating anything she remembered.  
  
Now he was sitting on the edge of the canopied bed, looking on with a proprietary air. I would have preferred to be alone with Vicki. But she wanted him there. And how could I refuse, when this was his house, his shrine to Josette?  
  
Vicki sank into the armchair facing mine, a small table between us. In deference to the room's period atmosphere, I had decided to hypnotize her by having her gaze into a candle flame. Now she watched intently as I selected a pure white candle. Unconsciously wringing her hands in her lap.  
  
I reached to switch on my tape recorder.  
  
"Julia!" Her voice had a strangled quality. But when I looked at her, she managed a pasty smile. "I was just wondering...how did you become interested in hypnosis? I know some doctors use it in their specialties. Psychiatrists. But you were treating blood disorders, weren't you?"  
  
I moaned inwardly. Whether or not she realized it, she was stalling for time. More than ever, I regretted Barnabas's presence. With all the adjustments he'd been forced to make in a new century, it had never occurred to him to ask me the question she had just posed. Now he was clearly intrigued.  
  
"Hypnosis was all the rage in academic circles a few years ago," I ventured.  
  
They looked at me expectantly.  
  
"An old friend taught me. It was just a lark for me at the time, but he had been drawn to it through his work."  
  
They were still waiting.  
  
I bit the bullet. "He was an anthropologist, studying primitive peoples' reliance on dreams. That led him to delve into altered states of consciousness."  
  
Vicki was satisfied. I doubt she heard the murmur that escaped Barnabas's lips.  
  
I glanced at him, and he mouthed the name, "Michael Woodard?" He winced at my reluctant nod.  
  
I turned on the tape recorder and lit the candle.  
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I placed Vicki under hypnosis with practiced ease, then realized I had no idea what to do next. I had never attempted a past-life regression. But I steadied myself and plunged into it.  
  
"Vicki...Victoria. I want you to imagine yourself descending a staircase. Going deeper and deeper into the secret past...your own buried memories. You have nothing to fear. The staircase is clean, beautiful, well-lighted. Can you see it?"  
  
"Yes...yes. I'm going down the staircase. It's just as you say. I'm not afraid."  
  
"Good, good. Now you've reached the bottom of the stairs, and you're facing a door. An ornate, elegant door. Can you see it?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Good. Behind the door is another world...an earlier era, in which you were a different person. People you knew and loved, a home you loved. I want you to open the door and go in."  
  
Her brow furrowed. "I...I can't. It's locked. I don't have the key."  
  
I was momentarily stumped. But Barnabas cut in, his voice very soft.  
  
"You do have the key, Victoria. Can't you see it? The key is the reason you're doing this. The key is love."  
  
"Yes...yes! I do have it. I'm unlocking the door. It doesn't open easily, but I _will_ open it... All right. I'm stepping through the door. Another world..."  
  
A long pause. At last I asked carefully, "Can you tell me where you are now? Can you tell me _who_ you are?"  
  
"My name is Victoria Winters."  
  
Barnabas released the breath he had been holding.  
  
I tried again. "No, your name is not Victoria Winters, not in this world you are in now. You are a different person. Take a minute to think about it, drink in the sights and sounds of the world around you... Now tell me something about your life."  
  
_"My name is Victoria Winters."_ Like a schoolgirl reciting a lesson...  
  
Barnabas said, "Victoria. Can you hear me?"  
  
"Yes, I hear you."  
  
"Listen carefully. I think I hear someone else speaking to you! I can't make out what he's saying, but I know he's speaking to you, trying to get your attention. He's calling you by a different name, but I can't quite hear what it is... Can you hear him, Victoria?"  
  
"Yes! I hear him."  
  
"Can you make out what name he's calling you?"  
  
"I think so. M-m-Marie... Of course! My name is Marie!"  
  
"What year is this, Marie?"  
  
"1988."  
  
He stopped, and looked at me in confusion. "Her real name in _this_ life?"  
  
"Yes, almost certainly. Damn! I hoped that by talking about an earlier era, I had skipped her past it."  
  
"A French name. Does that imply descent from the DuPres family?"  
  
"No, you're grasping at straws. I'm sure she is descended from them. But 'Marie' is too common a name to imply anything."  
  
Before I could stop him, he turned back to her. "Marie. Can you tell me your family name?"  
  
"Why should I tell you that?" Her voice was sharper now. "Who are you? I can't see you. How do I know I can trust you? New York is a dangerous city."  
  
I put a hand on his arm, trying to restrain him. This wasn't the history that concerned us. I had promised Vicki I wouldn't explore it! But Barnabas couldn't resist the opportunity to try to establish her blood link with the DuPres clan. He forged ahead.  
  
"You live in New York?"  
  
"Of course. I've lived in New York for a long time."  
  
"How old are you?"  
  
"Twenty-two."  
  
"Are you living in hardship, Marie? Poverty?"  
  
"Hardship? That depends on your point of view." A twisted, mirthless smile made her look older than her years. "I have money, possessions. A beautiful home."  
  
"Can you tell me your address?"  
  
"I never give strangers my address."  
  
"No...no, of course not. A beautiful young woman, alone in New York City... _Are_ you alone?"  
  
"Alone? No, not now. Not any more. Not since I met Eric."  
  
Barnabas looked deflated. "Are you happy with Eric?"  
  
"Happy? No!" More and more troubled. "I don't know what I want any more. I thought I wanted this a year ago, when I met Eric, but now I'm scared. Oh God, what have I gotten myself into? Eric doesn't care about me, it's all for himself. He won't let me back out!" Her voice had risen to a wail.  
  
"Eric?" Suddenly, she seemed to be seeing him. "No, no, I wasn't talking to anyone.  
  
"Eric, I don't want to do this any more. I want to stop... Let me go! No, Eric, no--oh God, don't! You're hurting me!  
  
"_Stop! I can't stand any more!_ Oh God, the pain--"  
  
She was sobbing. I grabbed her and began shaking her, trying desperately to bring her out of it.  
  
"Get Eric's last name. Get his address." Barnabas's voice was deadly, his face whiter than I had ever seen it.  
  
"No, Barnabas! Let it go!"  
  
"Don't you understand, Julia? That man was abusing her! Not in some other life, but three years ago. He's _alive_, in New York--"  
  
"What do you want to do to him?"  
  
"Kill him!" He struggled with himself, and somehow regained control. "No. Turn him in to the authorities, have him prosecuted--"  
  
_"Let it go!"_ I pulled the sobbing Vicki close to me, spoke quietly over her head. "I don't think you understand, Barnabas. This could be...a falling-out between a high-priced prostitute and her pimp."  
  
"I know that. It doesn't matter."  
  
"Doesn't...matter. All right. Then think of this. Vicki doesn't want to remember that horror in New York, doesn't want to be reminded of it! She just wants to get past it, and search for her memories of Josette."  
  
His face softened. Vicki pulled away from me and looked up at him. Hurt, frightened. "B-Barnabas?"  
  
He took her in his arms, and she clung to him.  
  
"Vicki," I said carefully, "I'm sorry that was a rough experience. How much of it do you remember?"  
  
"Not much." Her eyes filled with tears. "My name was Marie, and some man--Eric?--was h-hurting me..."  
  
"No one will ever hurt you again," said Barnabas.  
  
Vicki did not return to Collinwood with me that night.  
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I lay awake all night, afraid for both of them. Had I made a mistake in leaving them alone together? Would Vicki, even now, be physically safe with Barnabas? Would he be shattered if he found himself impotent--a real possibility?  
  
My fears were dispelled when I walked into the Old House next morning. Vicki was glowing, though all she told me was that Barnabas had "let her sleep in Josette's room." Barnabas looked like a small boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.  
  
I cornered him. "Tell me. All went well? I'm asking as your doctor."  
  
"All went...very well." He actually blushed. "I think I would have been too nervous to attempt it, if I had not been so concerned for her. Anxious to comfort her.  
  
"And now...I can hardly believe it...Julia, you can't imagine what this is like for me!" Sudden tears welled in his eyes. "To realize that the horror is truly over. That I'm not alone any more, I'll be able to sleep in her arms every night, wake in her arms every morning, for the rest of my life...a _normal_ life... Thank you, _thank you!_" He hugged me, hard.  
  
I held him, smoothed his hair, tried to think of him only as a patient. "I'm...delighted, Barnabas.  
  
"Does this mean you're satisfied that you love Vicki? You won't insist on trying the hypnosis again?"  
  
"That's right. I was a fool, I don't know what I was thinking. _Of course_ Victoria is Josette! I'm sure of that now. And I love her, love her desperately."  
  
I wished, fleetingly, that he had said he no longer _cared_ whether she was Josette.  
  
A touch on my shoulder. Vicki. "I couldn't help overhearing that."  
  
Barnabas moved away from me. He slipped an arm around her, and she around him, with the naturalness of longtime lovers.  
  
Her eyes were moist. "I'm so grateful, Julia. For all you've done for both of us, and for your trying to spare me now. And I'm happy Barnabas would be willing to accept me on faith.  
  
"But I can't let it go. Not now. I'd feel like a coward.  
  
"And I want Josette's memories! I want to remember my first meeting with Barnabas, our first kiss, the first time we made love." She looked up at him adoringly. "Hearing about it from him isn't enough."  
  
Barnabas stiffened. "I don't want you to try it again. Not after what you went through yesterday--"  
  
"I'm going to do it." She pulled his face down to hers, and kissed him firmly on the mouth. "Don't try to change my mind.  
  
"I have to know, Barnabas. We both have to know."  
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**_Part 5_**  
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We were back in Josette's room, Vicki wearing the change of clothing I'd brought her from Collinwood. Selecting that lavender ensemble from her closet had given me an idea...and if this hypnosis session couldn't be avoided, I was at least approaching it with new confidence.  
  
"Victoria," I said gently. "Have you reached the bottom of the stairs?"  
  
"Y-yes." She clutched an arm of her chair. "Please...please don't make me move away from the stairs! I feel safer if I can hold onto the railing."  
  
Barnabas shifted uneasily on the bed. I knew he longed to embrace her.  
  
"No one will make you go anywhere you don't want to go," I promised. "But...can you see a door?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Try to describe it."  
  
"It's an elaborate, carved door..." She moistened her lips. "I...I know I've seen it before. It frightens me."  
  
Barnabas clenched his fist.  
  
"Then I want you to look away from it." _Smoothly, smoothly..._ "Look around you, Victoria, and you'll see that you aren't really at the foot of the stairs. You're on a landing. Isn't that right?"  
  
"Y-yes." There was a note of surprise in her voice.  
  
"I'd like you to go down another flight. Are you willing to do that?"  
  
"Yes!" Not only willing, it seemed, but eager.  
  
Moments later she said uncertainly, "I've gone down another flight. Now...?"  
  
"If you look around you, I'm sure you'll see a door. A very ordinary door, this time. It's just a closet."  
  
"I see it. But...a _closet?_"  
  
I smiled. "A clothes closet, in which you kept your wardrobe long, long ago. You haven't seen these clothes in many years. Won't it be enjoyable to look at them again?" _Assuming you don't immediately pull out the dress you wore to Jeremiah's funeral..._  
  
"Oh yes, it will!" Eyes alight, she let her hand drop from the chair arm. "Ohhh..._yes!_"  
  
Her whole body seemed to relax. Then her posture changed, ever so slightly. When she continued, her tone was matter-of-fact.  
  
"Of course. I'd forgotten I must choose a dress for tonight. I think it will be--this one!"  
  
Barnabas leaned forward, enthralled. I silenced him with a glance.  
  
"Can you describe what you're planning to wear?" There could be other incarnations between her present life and the hoped-for life as Josette. Clothing styles might provide the best clues to eras we were visiting. At the very least, a wardrobe consisting entirely of long dresses would prove we were safely past her experience with Eric.  
  
But skirt length was apparently the furthest thing from her mind. "It's silk. Ruby-red...my best color!" She smiled archly.  
  
Then she gave an exaggerated sigh. "I'll need comfortable shoes. I'll probably have to dance that stupid Charleston half the night!"  
  
A wave of relief swept over me, and I found myself giggling like a schoolgirl. When I saw Barnabas's baffled look, the giggles erupted anew.  
  
"Nineteen-twenties," I told him as soon as I caught my breath. "An incarnation in the Twenties."  
  
"Oh." He relaxed slightly, managing a strained smile. "How will you get her back to the landing, the stairs?"  
  
"Well...I don't know what her name is in this life, but it almost certainly isn't Victoria. Calling her that will probably bring her out of it." At least I hoped it would.  
  
"Victoria," I said firmly, "I want you to come away from there. Come back to the staircase landing. The _staircase landing_, Victoria!"  
  
"All...right..." Confused now, timid. She gripped the chair arm as a small child would a security blanket.  
  
I sighed. I would have loved to explore the intermediate lives. But they were irrelevant--worse than irrelevant. If Barnabas's true love had enjoyed several happy marriages while he lay trapped in his coffin, they were better off not knowing it.  
  
I took Vicki down another flight of stairs, and she opened another "closet."  
  
This time she reported a collection of long dresses. I heard Barnabas's sharp intake of breath, and out of the corner of my eye, saw him sit up straighter.  
  
Once again, Vicki seemed to have slipped easily into another life. "It's so cold!" she said petulantly. "It's always cold here. I sent Malcolm to get more logs for the fire, but it's taking him forever."  
  
Before I could stop him, Barnabas asked, "Who is Malcolm?"  
  
"My manservant, of course."  
  
This was clearly not Josette. She wouldn't have needed a fire in Martinique, and I was sure she had not had a servant named Malcolm in France or at Collinwood.  
  
"Where do you live?" Barnabas asked.  
  
I glared at him. We had agreed not to press for information like this.  
  
But Vicki replied in a bored tone, "I've been here in Washington for a year now. I may not stay much longer. Everyone here is caught up in the war. And there are hardly any healthy young men in town."  
  
"The war." I shuddered, not least at her attitude. She seemed to regard it simply as an inconvenience. "What--what year is this?"  
  
"It's the winter of 1862."  
  
"The Civil War," Barnabas murmured. He might be unfamiliar with trivia like the Charleston, but he had learned about the Civil War, and his expression was somber.  
  
I pulled Vicki out of that life. It left a bad taste in my mouth.  
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I was tempted to stop for the day. But I had successfully regressed her past her present life, taken her back to the mid-nineteenth century. If I brought her out of hypnosis I'd have to start again from the present, with no guarantee the next regression would proceed as smoothly.  
  
I decided to press on.  
  
Vicki descended another flight of stairs. And this time, when she found yet another period wardrobe, she began describing it in _French!_  
  
Barnabas's face lit up.  
  
Unfortunately, I knew only a few words of French. "Please," I asked her, "can you speak English?"  
  
"_Oui._ That is...yes, of course. I speak very good English. Italian, as well!" I smiled at the girlish pride in her voice. She seemed very young, and her lilting accent was as beautiful as she herself was.  
  
"Can you tell me your name?"  
  
"What? You know my name!"  
  
"Yes," I acknowledged, still smiling. "I think I do. Would you like to tell me what you're doing now?" _Just confirm her identity, that's all. Five more minutes, and we're home free._  
  
"I'm preparing my trousseau. Getting ready for my wedding."  
  
Barnabas's face was wreathed in smiles.  
  
Then she grimaced. "I don't know how I can endure it. To go to live in that godforsaken part of the world, so far from everyone and everything I care for... And I don't even genuinely _like_ my bridegroom-to-be! But Papa insists I pretend to love him, and marry him for his wealth. An alliance of great families, Papa calls it."  
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I sat speechless. Stunned.  
  
I heard Barnabas make a small sound. It was almost a whimper.  
  
_This is insane,_ I told myself. _She can't mean it. My God, Barnabas!_  
  
I tried to speak calmly, reasonably. "Josette, I can't believe you don't want this marriage--"  
  
"Josette?" A subtle change came over her. The face was lovely as ever, yet seemed to age before my eyes. Color drained from her cheeks. _"Josette."_  
  
"Yes. That is your name, isn't it?"  
  
She stared blankly into space. "Josette. I had almost forgotten. The wedding, yes. The wedding at Collinwood..._Angelique!_"  
  
_"Yes!"_ Barnabas exploded. "_Angelique _is behind this, somehow! You do remember her, your servant?"  
  
_"Servant?"_  
  
Suddenly, she began to laugh. A hollow, soulless laugh that curdled the blood in my veins.  
  
Just as suddenly, she stopped.  
  
"Angelique was never my servant."  
  
A harsh, grating whisper.  
  
"I was hers."  
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Barnabas looked at me helplessly. My heart ached for both of them.  
  
Forcing myself to go on, I began tentatively, "Josette..."  
  
"Don't call me that!" she snarled. She pulled away from me, retreating into the depths of the chair.  
  
Then she said sullenly, _"I hated Josette."_  
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Silence. The deep, utter stillness of the tomb.  
  
Save that I could hear a clock ticking, unimaginably far away...  
  
Willie loomed in the doorway. Drawn by the briefly raised voices, the unholy laughter.  
  
He saw our expressions and froze.  
  
At last Barnabas whispered, _"Who are you?"_  
  
Vicki shrugged. "I could ask you the same question. To me, you're merely a disembodied voice... But really, I thought you knew. My name is Marie. Marie LaFreniere DuPres."  
  
He gasped. _"LaFreniere...?"  
  
_I was still in the dark. "Barnabas...what is it?"  
  
He turned to look at me. Face gone grey, eyes glassy.  
  
In a small, shaky voice he said, "She's...the reincarnation of Josette's _mother..._"  
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**_Part 6_**  
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"This doesn't make sense," Barnabas muttered.  
  
My sentiments exactly.  
  
"Barnabas," I whispered, "Vicki never mentioned meeting this Marie DuPres in 1790. I assumed Josette's mother was dead."  
  
Willie sagged against the door-frame. He mumbled something unintelligible.  
  
"She _was_," Barnabas said plaintively. "At least, that's what Josette told me." His eyes narrowed. "I remember her saying her mother's maiden name was LaFreniere. And it comes back to me now that her first name was Marie.  
  
"But she died when Josette was a baby! How could she know about things that happened years later?"  
  
"She couldn't." I looked thoughtfully at Vicki. Sitting with closed eyes, murmuring under her breath. "Unless...she really didn't die then. She and Andre separated, and he lied to Josette."  
  
My imagination took wing. "Perhaps Marie had married and given birth very young. She resented Josette in later years because having a daughter that old made _her_ feel old.  
  
"And...Barnabas, this could explain Vicki's blood relationship! Marie had at least one child by another man after she left Andre. Vicki is descended from Marie, not Andre. And 'Marie'--Vicki's real name--may be a traditional name in her family."  
  
He eyed me hopefully. "Are you remembering any of this? Having flashbacks of your life as Natalie?"  
  
"No," I sighed. "Just guessing. I wish I'd attempted self-hypnosis before I hypnotized Vicki. But I never expected we'd uncover DuPres family secrets.  
  
"In any case, I'm sorry Vicki isn't the reincarnation of Josette. I know how badly you both wanted that. But if you love each other, you can help one another cope..." I realized I was babbling. Trying unsuccessfully to read his intentions.  
  
I lowered my voice. "You aren't going to abandon her, are you? She needs you!"  
  
No answer. His gaze was riveted on Vicki.  
  
"Well..." I continued uncertainly. "I think I'll bring her out of it."  
  
"No."  
  
"Barnabas, I know you aren't pleased with the outcome. But we've accomplished what we set out to do--"  
  
"I said _no!_" He fought to bring his voice under control. "Julia, something doesn't ring true. If Marie was estranged from the DuPres family, how could she know Angelique? Angelique was the same age as Josette.  
  
"And why would she describe herself as _Angelique's servant?_ Josette might have said that--in bitterness, after the fact, when she realized she had 'served' Angelique rather than vice versa. But why Marie?"  
  
"I don't know," I admitted. "What are you thinking?"  
  
"I'm not sure. Perhaps...perhaps she really is Josette! And Angelique has caused her to be confused..." New hope shone in his face.  
  
Willie moaned.  
  
His eyes were half-closed, I noticed, and his mind seemed far away.  
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"Marie," I began. "Can you tell me your husband's name?"  
  
Her eyes snapped open. "Andre DuPres."  
  
"And you didn't want to marry him?"  
  
"Of course not!" A proud lift of her chin. "I was born and raised in France. Bred to gentility. Andre took me to the ends of the earth, to live on a sweltering, bug-infested plantation hacked out of the jungle." She seemed to shrink into herself, withdrawing from her surroundings.  
  
"The slaves outnumbered us a hundred to one. They frightened me. And our nearest white neighbors--a day's ride away--had no more sophistication or culture than the slaves."  
  
"What about Andre?" asked Barnabas.  
  
Her lip curled. "A dull man and a clumsy lover. I despised him. He insisted I give him a child, but after that he left me alone. As far as I was concerned, Delphine was welcome to him!"  
  
"Delphine?" Barnabas's eyebrows shot up. "She and Andre were lovers?"  
  
They had lost me. "Who was Delphine?"  
  
"Andre's slave concubine," Marie hissed. "Light-skinned, the most beautiful woman on the island. She was also his half-sister--though I didn't learn the extent of the family's depravity for some time."  
  
I tried to lead her back to the main issues. "Your child was Josette?"  
  
"Yes. Born on the same day as Delphine's daughter Angelique. Andre had fathered her, too."  
  
The catch in Barnabas's breath told me that came as a surprise to him.  
  
"Marie..." I groped for words. "There's some confusion about what happened when Josette was a baby. Did you leave Andre?"  
  
"Leave Andre?" She smiled faintly. "Yes. I left Andre far behind..."  
  
The smile faded. "I was desperately unhappy. Lonely, friendless...except for Delphine. I thought she was my friend. Now I know she regarded me as a rival. She never understood how completely I loathed Andre.  
  
"I was twenty-two years old, and I saw my youth slipping away. Wasted, _wasted_... The next generation was already on the scene, preparing to elbow me aside. I had visions of becoming an old woman before my time, rotting like everything around me in that stinking swamp."  
  
Her voice dropped. "Delphine saw my distress. And she held out hope. Took me into the jungle, to witchcraft and voodoo rituals. Drew me ever deeper into her web..." She shivered, hugged herself tightly. "Then she offered me a 'gift.' Eternal youth. She said I could be twenty-two forever."  
  
I sensed, dimly, that I should end this. But Marie had drawn me into a web of her own, and I couldn't break away.  
  
"That sounds like Delphine," Barnabas said in a strained voice. "Her powers were legend. What did she do for you, if anything?"  
  
"Oh, she was true to her word. After a fashion." Sunken eyes glowed like coals in a death's-head face. "I was drugged. I have no memory of the ceremony...isn't that strange? But I'm sure it was done in the usual way. There were others like me on the island.  
  
"At first I was delighted. I had to leave Andre, and our squalling brat of a baby. But that was pure relief. Andre helped with the cover-up--anything to prevent a scandal that might hurt his darling Josette!  
  
"And I no longer had to fear the slaves. Andre owned so many, the few who were...sacrificed were barely missed."  
  
A stirring, too late, in the back of my mind. _Breath reeking of rum. My stocky, balding brother bending over me in the night. Not seeking sex, not this night. He had come, this night, to share an appalling secret..._  
  
"But I soon realized Delphine's 'gift' was a curse. The darkness, the isolation...worst of all, the _cold!_ Even in that tropical hell, no amount of feeding could keep me warm..."  
  
I gagged.  
  
The pieces of the puzzle fell into place.  
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The callous--and _cold_--Washingtonian who had complained about the unavailability of "healthy young men" during the Civil War.  
  
The flapper who had flashed that coy smile as she told me "ruby-red" was "her best color."  
  
The jaded beauty who had lived in New York for "a long time," yet was only twenty-two.  
  
Eternally twenty-two...  
  
Until she met Eric.  
  
_Eric._  
  
I saw him clearly now, in my mind's eye. Not a pimp, oh no, not a pimp...  
  
Eric _Lang_. A brilliant doctor and scientist who had been my opposite number at Columbia, back in my faculty days at NYU. Like me, a specialist in treating blood disorders.  
  
Eric Lang had dropped out of sight after he disgraced himself by presenting a wild theory at a symposium in '87.  
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For a moment, I was back in the sunlit drawing room.  
  
_"Barnabas isn't a vampire **now**. You mustn't think of him that way. I've been treating him--"  
  
"**Treating** him? As if it were some sort of **illness?** That's impossible!"  
  
"There's a first time for everything."_  
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A first time for everything.  
  
My cure of a vampire had not been the first.  
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And Barnabas had made a mind-numbing mistake.  
  
Victoria Winters was not the reincarnation of Josette's mother.  
_  
She actually **was** Josette's mother!_  
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My thoughts were in turmoil. Had Eric erased Vicki's memory deliberately? If so, had he done it at her request? I guessed the answer was yes, on both counts.  
  
This Pandora's Box never should have been opened.  
  
_"Stop,"_ I croaked. "Vicki...Victoria, come--"  
  
Barnabas was at my side. He clamped a hand over my mouth.  
  
"Marie," he said in a deceptively calm voice, "how do you know Angelique? How do you know Collinwood?"  
  
At that moment, I believe, he understood that Marie had indicated she was a vampire. But he hadn't thought beyond that, didn't realize this vampire had survived for two hundred years. He was still clinging to the hope that she was Josette, reciting a false history Angelique had put in her mind, and he could break through to the truth.  
  
The sound that issued from Marie's throat was close to a growl. "_Angelique_. I don't want to remember Angelique!"  
  
"I'm an enemy of hers," Barnabas said smoothly. "She's hurt me, and I think she's hurt you too. I'd like to know the details."  
  
She seemed mollified. "Angelique joined her mother's coven when she was in her teens. Delphine kept no secrets from her after that. I saw them both frequently."  
  
Barnabas released his hold on me, but his look said he would brook no interference. He would overpower me if necessary.  
  
"Angelique brought me news of Josette," Marie continued. "She was the first to tell me Josette looked almost exactly like me. Then I spied on Josette, saw it for myself.  
  
"God, how I hated her! She dared to have my face--_mine!_ And she truly was young, young and vital in a way I was not."  
  
I still saw disbelief in Barnabas's eyes. He said softly, "Go on. What do you know of Collinwood?"  
  
"Collinwood..." Her voice sank to a whisper.  
  
"Years passed. I had come to abhor the life I was forced to lead. Delphine's 'gift.' I begged her to remove it.  
  
"And she promised she would, if I would perform a service for her and Angelique. They wanted me to accompany Angelique, secretly, on an ocean voyage--my coffin in the hold. A voyage to New England, where Josette was to be married.  
  
"Angelique was plotting to steal Josette's fiance. But if she failed, or made enemies on whom she wished to wreak vengeance, she would need me."  
  
I felt a curious sense of unreality, as if I were the one hypnotized. _I should stop this, I should stop this... Why can't I stop this?_  
  
Barnabas stood transfixed, a wax figure.  
  
Willie, newly alert, took a shaky step into the room.  
  
"The voyage was agony, Collinwood even worse. Bitter, unendurable cold. And Angelique treated me like a prisoner--or the most menial of her father's slaves. She kept me on the verge of starvation. Only allowed me to take a little blood--"  
  
_"Noooooo!"_  
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Willie fell to his knees. Doubled over, blubbering. He seemed to be trying to protect his arms, cover them with his torso...  
  
His arms. Of course. A vampire unwilling--or forbidden--to leave marks on the neck would go for the wrists, which could be hidden by long sleeves.  
  
"Don't, Marie, don't!" he whimpered. "No more. Please...Angelique! Get her off me!"  
  
His head jerked up and he looked around frantically, seeking help.  
  
Then he began to blink. He brought a trembling hand up to paw at his face. "Wh-what the hell's goin' on? I lost an eye in the War!"  
  
_Oh my God._  
  
"Willie," I quavered. _"Come back to the present."_  
  
He blinked again.  
  
Slowly, comprehension dawned. He clasped his hands to his mouth and sat back on his haunches, eyes wide as saucers.  
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Marie appeared only mildly surprised by the interruption.  
  
Barnabas had never moved, never taken his eyes off her face.  
  
"Angelique only allowed me to take a little blood from one of the Collins servants, a man she had bewitched. The bare minimum I needed to survive.  
  
"Then"--the ghost of a smile, the most genuine I had seen--"her plans went awry. Josette's fiance discovered she was a witch, confronted her. And in the struggle, Angelique was killed!  
  
"But it wasn't the end, of course. She came back. That was when she called upon me. _To deal with Barnabas Collins_."  
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Barnabas swayed, then staggered backward. He believed her at last.  
  
"My...my _dream_," he choked. "The...thing that attacked me..._looked like Josette..._"   
  
That revelation sent my mind reeling.  
  
"I've always assumed...it was Angelique herself. That she had the power...to take any form, temporarily.  
  
"But...I should have known. The vampire...transformed into a bat. Flew toward the _window_, and disappeared. Got away. Then Angelique appeared, inside the room. Nowhere near the window.  
  
"The dream... A part of my mind was trying to warn me. There was..._someone else!_ A...real vampire...who looked just like...Josette..."  
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Caught up in her story, Marie gave no sign she had heard him. She went on inexorably, every word hitting me like a hammer blow.  
  
"I had never created another vampire. But we all know how, by instinct. It's done by transferring blood--the dying victim's own blood--from your mouth to his, making him swallow it. To accustom him to the taste, the act of swallowing blood.  
  
"It can be done gently, lovingly! Like a mother bird feeding her young. No trauma at all. Especially if the person wants to become a vampire. Even if he doesn't, he's experiencing severe thirst at that point, and he's usually eager to swallow any liquid.  
  
"But Barnabas Collins..._resisted_." She gave a long shudder at the memory. "He was a refined, elegant gentleman... I don't know how much of it was a desperate fight to live, how much sheer revulsion. But he wouldn't swallow. I had to block his airway. _Force_ him, much more roughly than I had intended..."  
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In my mind, I heard again the same woman's voice: _"I want to remember my first meeting with Barnabas, our first kiss, the first time we made love."_  
  
I retched.  
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"He shouldn't have died as quickly as he did," she said mournfully. "Such a fastidious gentleman. He should have lived a few hours, had a peaceful death. But he couldn't survive the shock.  
  
"He was so unlike Andre! Under other circumstances..." Her voice trailed off.  
  
There was a haunted look, now, in those coal-black eyes. "I made my way back to Martinique. It wasn't easy, with Angelique gone. I reminded Delphine of her promise to remove my 'gift'...and she laughed in my face.  
  
"I lived with that 'gift' for two hundred years. Not always unhappy. Of all my crimes as a vampire, my one great regret was the way I had mauled Barnabas Collins.  
  
"When Eric made me a normal woman in 1988, he offered to erase my memories. And I accepted the offer--because of _that_ memory."  
  
I heard an anguished moan. Had no idea whether it came from Barnabas's throat or Willie's. Or my own.  
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Her voice took on a dreamy quality. "Eric said I could become a new person. A clean, decent person who would never again be troubled by those old memories. He named her Victoria Winters.  
  
"Victoria Winters...  
  
"My name is Victoria Winters. My name is Victoria Winters..."  
  
Suddenly, she went rigid. Her eyes widened.  
  
_Vicki's_ eyes.  
  
She looked from Barnabas, to Willie, to me. Back to Barnabas.  
  
Struggled to her feet, overturning the chair.  
  
And then she began to scream.  
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Somehow, I heard Barnabas's whisper over Vicki's shrieks.  
  
"I thought...that creature...was Josette. _Again_. I...took her into...my _bed_."  
  
His voice rose. A death knell.  
  
_"I took her into my **bed!**"  
  
_He lunged, and the screams were stifled as he began choking the life out of her.  
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Willie reached them an instant before I did. Dragged Barnabas off her.  
  
Vicki gave a few ragged gasps...then resumed screaming. But the horror in her eyes had given way to madness.  
  
All I knew at that moment was that I had to silence those gut-wrenching screams. I flung her against the wall, with a strength I never knew I had.  
  
She crumpled in a heap.  
  
Willie gave me a reproachful look.  
  
Barnabas simply stood there, panting. Slim body vibrating like a tuning fork.  
  
Then he let out a single, thin cry.  
  
And collapsed.  
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Willie saw I was oblivious to Vicki. He mumbled apologetically, and went to tend her himself.  
  
I sank to the floor beside Barnabas, cradling his head in my lap.  
  
His breathing was shallow but regular. His eyes were open.  
  
But I looked into those glazed eyes and saw no recognition. No light, no life.  
  
The man I loved was gone, as if he had never been. Lost in the dark shadows of his tortured mind.  
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**_Part 7_**  
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Willie called this afternoon.  
  
He calls often to keep me informed. But today was special.  
  
"Ya did it, Doc!" he exulted. "I gave Barnabas the last injection three days ago, stopped right when ya told me. An' he ain't had no problems. He's a normal man!"  
  
I winced at his choice of words.  
  
"Willie...does Barnabas _understand?_"  
  
He hesitated. "Uh...I ain't sure, Doc. I tried t' explain. But he just sorta looked through me, like he usually does."  
  
I couldn't think of a response.  
  
"He is gettin' better! He can pretty much feed an' dress himself. With help. An' a lot o' proddin'.  
  
"An' he does speak sometimes. Just this mornin' he said, 'Thank you, Willie.' An' when David was here the other day he said, 'Hello, David.'  
  
"I think he understands everythin' I say. He just don't feel like talkin' much."  
  
Silence hung between us again.  
  
"He has three or four good days a week now!"  
  
I cringed inwardly. On the "good" days, I know, Barnabas spends most of his time huddled in a chair, listening to recorded ocean sounds, which soothe him as nothing else can.  
  
Never mind that the real ocean is outside his door. He can't be coaxed out of the house.  
  
On "bad" days he wanders from room to room as though searching for absent loved ones. Weeps for what he has lost.  
  
That's not all.  
  
Perhaps the most tragic consequence of his encounter with Marie is that it ruined his memories of Josette. Now, when he thinks of that face, he can see only Marie.  
  
He tore Josette's portrait to shreds months ago.  
  
And he spends hours on end compulsively drawing pictures of Marie.  
  
So he can rip them up.  
  
As if he'd been reading my thoughts, Willie confided, "I snitched one o' them pictures he's always drawin'. I keep it in my room."  
  
I swallowed hard.  
  
"Willie, I'd give anything to see him. Is there any chance?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Doc." The weariness he tries to hide came through in his voice. "It's still no go. Auntie came t' the door last week, t' gimme some pies she baked. David wasn't around t' run errands.  
  
"We hoped Barnabas wouldn't see 'er, but he did. An' he like t' had a fit! It took me hours t' calm 'im down.  
  
"If he carries on about a woman as old as Auntie, who ain't nothin' like Marie--"  
  
I finished the thought. "He still can't tolerate the sight of _any_ woman."  
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Any woman. A crushing blow for me. And it means that in all these months Barnabas has not been seen by a doctor, let alone a psychiatrist.  
  
What psychiatrist could comprehend the trauma responsible for his condition? Or even believe the true story if he heard it?  
  
What physician other than me could have understood the abnormal blood, the need for my serum?  
  
One, perhaps. _Eric Lang_ offered his services as physician. But Eric had been furious when he arrived in Collinsport, alerted by a New York friend who'd kept in touch with both him and Vicki. In time he cooled off, and acknowledged I'd had no way of knowing it would be dangerous to hypnotize her. But I'm still not sure whether he's friend or foe. There's no way I'd trust him to treat Barnabas.  
  
Thank God for Willie. He never mentions his previous incarnation. But Ben Loomis's intelligence and competence--which Barnabas never glimpsed in him--have been apparent throughout this crisis.  
  
The _loyalty_ had, I think, been there all along.  
  
Willie kept Barnabas in the home he loves, tends him round the clock. And he's modernized the house in dozens of subtle ways. Craftily concealed telephones are the least of it. He's also installed electronic monitors in every room. Barnabas can roam on his own, have some measure of privacy. But Willie always knows where he is and what he's doing. If he starts to moan or cry, Willie can be at his side in seconds.  
  
Willie has sacrificed his own life completely. He hasn't been out of the house in months. Barnabas can't be left alone, and there's no man Willie trusts to stay with him.  
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"Doc?" I heard a wistful note in his voice. "Have ya seen Miss Winters this week?"  
  
What a pair we make. Me, yearning for Barnabas and only able to see Vicki. Willie, the reverse.  
  
"There's no change," I told him. "She's still insane, screaming and raving whenever she's not sedated."  
  
Vicki is in a mental hospital near here. In her case there were, at least, no physical anomalies to be explained. Eric has won acceptance as her personal physician and de facto "next of kin."  
  
But while there may be hope for Barnabas, her mind is past salvaging.  
  
"I wish I could see her."  
  
"I wish you could too, Willie--but only for your sake. Believe me, you couldn't help her."  
  
I had to ask. "Willie, you still care for her, despite what she did to Barnabas? And to..._Ben?_"  
  
He had an answer ready. "Remember, Doc, Marie didn't do t' me--I mean, t' _Ben_--what she done t' Barnabas. Not near as bad. She just did the same as he's done t'   
me, often.  
  
"An' she was doin' them things against 'er will, just like Barnabas."  
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Not exactly.  
  
I've tried to make excuses for Marie. Told myself she was forced into marriage. Andre was an unloving, unfaithful husband. She expressed remorse for her treatment of Barnabas.  
  
But still, Marie herself struck me as a shallow, self-centered snob.  
  
She, unlike Barnabas, chose to become involved with the occult. She accepted Delphine's "gift," and initially enjoyed her new life.  
  
She became disenchanted, not because vampirism required her to inflict agony on others, but because of the discomfort it held for her. Darkness. Isolation. Cold. And then she agreed to make someone else a vampire as the price of her release. I can't imagine Barnabas doing that.  
  
Barnabas... Was Marie's "one great regret" rooted in compassion? Or in the fact his resistance had made her first creation of another vampire a traumatic experience for _her?_  
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"An' besides," Willie said, "Miss Winters seemed like a diff'rent person."  
  
There I agree.  
  
Eric's "creation," as he calls her...  
  
"Willie, there's something else I should tell you. Something I only learned today. Eric doesn't believe Vicki can survive...next month."  
  
"When she--"  
  
He was holding back out of delicacy, thinking of my feelings. I forced myself to say the words.  
  
_"When she gives birth to Barnabas's baby."_  
  
Another long pause.  
  
Then, "Why?"  
  
"Eric says there's been too much strain on her heart. The pregnancy, on top of everything else. He's convinced she won't make it."  
  
"He shoulda had them do an abortion. Months ago." His tone was flat, but I heard the suppressed anger.  
  
"I'm not sure about that, Willie. Ordinarily I'd agree. A fetus should be sacrificed when the woman's life is at risk. But if Vicki was destined to remain insane, and the baby had a chance to be a functional human being..."  
  
Or am I overly influenced by its being Barnabas's child?  
  
"There's more," I told him. "I don't pretend to understand what Eric is doing. But given his track record, I have to take him seriously.  
  
"He says Vicki will die. Or more accurately, _Marie DuPres_ will die. That's who she really is.  
  
"The baby will live. A girl. And he claims he can make the Victoria Winters personality incarnate in the baby."  
  
Stunned silence on the other end of the line.  
  
"She'll be a normal child, Willie. Not a 'little adult,' and not insane. She'll just be the _reincarnation_ of Victoria Winters. A sensitive, caring person, as Vicki was."  
  
Silence.  
  
I knew he was absorbing the fact that Victoria Winters was really, truly gone. At least, for twenty years or more.  
  
Then he raised the objection I had hoped wouldn't occur to him.  
  
"An' what if someone, someday, regresses _her?_ Will...the memory behind the memory...still be there, an' the whole thing come out, with no Eric Lang t' help 'er?"  
  
I gave him the only honest answer.  
  
"I don't know."  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
After that I expected Willie to sign off.  
  
He surprised me.  
  
"Doc...I've been thinkin'. This is a special occasion, what with Barnabas's cure an' all. If ya'd like t' come over late t'night, I'll let ya look at 'im while he's asleep. So ya can see I've been takin' good care of 'im, an' he looks healthy--"  
  
I felt a lump in my throat. Whispered, "That would be wonderful, Willie."  
  
"Ya just gotta be careful not t' wake 'im. Promise?"  
  
"Oh yes, I promise!"  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
As I hung up, my spirits were soaring. The prospect of seeing Barnabas, even asleep, was a boon beyond my wildest hopes.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
And yet I already knew where I would end the night.  
  
In Willie's bed. Both of us making love with our eyes closed, pretending...  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
What a pair we make.  
.  
.   
_.  
.  
_(The End)


End file.
